Wrecked (Stories of Serendipity #8): #8 (14 page)

When her doorbell rang, Renae was as ready as she would ever be. She smoothed down her dress and hair one last time, took a deep breath and opened the door to the most intense blue eyes she’d ever sunk into.

She watched as those eyes widened and roamed down her body slowly, before landing on her face. His rugged face split into a grin that stole her breath and she smiled back.

“You look amazing,” his voice washed over her like liquid fire. She suddenly wanted to strip the dress off and see exactly what he would do.

“Thanks,” she answered shyly. “So do you.” It wasn’t just lip service. He did. He was dressed in the gray blazer over a black t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. His hair was freshly showered and carefully mussed, and apparently, he’d gone to some trouble, putting on an aftershave Renae hadn’t previously associated with him. It smelled good, light and citrusy.

She inhaled deeply as she peered behind him. “We’re taking the motorcycle?”

His grin turned mischievous. “Yeah, I enjoyed it so much the other day…” His eyes dropped to her skirt. “If you want me to go get Dad’s car, I can.” Disappointment at the prospect shadowed his features.

“No, it’s my hair I’m worried about. Alyssa spent so much time on it.” She watched his eyebrows raise. “I know. My girlfriends treat me like a little kid.” Deciding it wasn’t worth it, and she really enjoyed the bike ride too, she continued. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Jason’s grin widened, and he followed her to the bike, straddling it easily and offering her a hand. Ignoring his hand, she hiked up her skirt to just under her hips.

“Um… look away, please.” He dutifully complied, jaw clenched, and Renae managed to straddle the bike behind him, flashing the neighborhood her sexy panties that nobody was supposed to see. Of course, nobody did see, unless she had neighbors peeking out the window. She chose not to think about the distinct possibility especially if Mrs. Lightfoot was still awake.

Once they were seated, Jason leaned back, reaching around behind her for the helmet strapped to the seat. He handed it to her, and she gently pushed it over her hair.

Leaning against Jason and feeling his coarse jeans on her inner thighs was an experience Renae wanted to repeat. A lot. She caught herself scooching up the seat, to wrap her legs around his so her torso was flush against his back. The powerful rumble of the machine was hypnotic as was the fresh citrusy smell sweeping over her from Jason, accompanied by his natural smell, a musky manly scent that was completely intoxicating. Like before, he grasped her hands and pulled them around his torso, yanking her forward. She willingly obliged him, reveling in the tautness of his muscles under the t-shirt he wore.

The proximity between them made warmth pool in her panties, and the rumbling vibrations of the machine between her legs weren’t helping matters much. Renae was overwhelmed by the sensations surrounding her, and by the time they got to Estelle’s, she was a trembling mass of nerves.

He pulled into the parking lot and shut off the bike, turning over his shoulder toward her. “Do you want me to get off first? Or you?”

She hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I’m not sure… Go ahead and get off, but don’t look.”

A deep chuckle resonated from him, and Renae felt it deep in her toes. He dismounted and turned his back to her, holding his hand out behind him for her if she needed it. She managed to get off the bike without too much difficulty, but her dress was halfway up her hips by the time she was done. Shimmying it down, she took his hand and smiled at his manners.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime.” His low rumbly voice was almost as bad as the motorcycle ride. He brought her hand to his mouth and caressed it with his lips. The hot moisture of his breath sent a shock through her that stole her breath. “You ready?” She nodded, and he led her into the restaurant.

Jessie was manning the hostess stand, which Renae thought was quite a feat, since she’d been at her own home not an hour ago.

“Hello, welcome to Estelle’s. Follow me!”

“Wow. Personal service from the owners. Friendship must have its privileges.” Jason’s whisper in her ear sent jolts of sensation through her body all over again. Being around this guy was like turning into pudding, every action he performed sent her into a quivering, jiggling mess whether he touched her or not.

When they were seated, Jason held the menu in front of him but watched her over the top. “Have you eaten here before?”

She shook her head. “No, but I’ve tried a lot of the stuff. Jessie is a good friend. Um, anything with goat cheese and fruit paired together is a winner. And the pizza. Try the pizza.”

It wasn’t long before Kathy came out to make some recommendations and Renae realized they wouldn’t get a moment’s privacy the entire evening if they wanted to talk about much. Jason ordered appetizers of steamed artichokes, raising his eyebrows at her insistence at only water. Thankfully, he didn’t question her choice too much.

When they were finally left alone, Jason leaned back in his chair and rested his hands on his lean stomach. “So, tell me about Renae’s vices. What do you do that’s bad?”

“Hmmm…” For a conversation starter, it was abrupt, but Renae was thankful for less small talk. One could only talk about the weather so much. “Um, well, I don’t drink too much, although I do like wine at home in the evenings. I don’t smoke, I don’t gamble, besides the occasional Lotto ticket… I get a speeding ticket about once a year.” She tucked a strand of hair that had come out of her stylish quaff behind her ear. “I guess my biggest problem is now that Kelly’s gone, I don’t really know what to do with myself.” Not that that would be a lasting problem. Soon enough she would have plenty to do with a baby to take care of, but that wasn’t tonight’s conversation. She’d already told herself that.

“That doesn’t seem like too big of a problem. I can think of lots of things to do with you.” His tone of voice had deepened suggestively, but he seemed to think better of it. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. But seriously, have you tried reading or something? Maybe a hobby?”

She laughed. “Yes. I’ve tried everything. I can’t concentrate on books because everything’s so quiet, and it makes me feel restless, like I should be doing something. I joined the quilting circle at church, but they kindly asked me not to return. I tried the working out thing, but my personal trainer was the woman who walked away from the wreck my husband died in.” Renae sighed, not really wanting the entire dinner’s conversation to be focused on her. “What about you? What do you do? Vices? Hobbies?” She sipped her water, indicating she was through talking for a bit.

“Baseball cards.”

That was a surprise, and Renae couldn’t contain it. “Baseball cards? Do tell.” The appetizer arrived, steamed artichokes with a goat cheese cream sauce.

Renae was momentarily captivated as Jason took a leaf from the artichoke, dipped it into the sauce, and scraped the meat of the leaf against his teeth before he spoke. She found his mouth exceedingly interesting.

“When my parents got divorced and we moved to Houston with my mom, the house next to the apartment complex we lived in had this little old couple, the Harrisons. They paid me to mow their lawn and wash their car, and Mrs. Harrison was always making the best cookies. She was forever feeding me. I was a latchkey kid, and my brother was busy with other things, so I spent a lot of time with the Harrisons. They were the nicest people, letting a kid like me hang out with them all the time while Mom worked. When Mr. Harrison died, Mrs. Harrison gave me his baseball card collection. She said it was nothing, had been in the attic forever, but I think she lied to me. It was an amazing collection, but I didn’t realize it at the time. It got me into something though.” He took another artichoke leaf and repeated the process, Renae watching, fascinated, her mouth suddenly dry.

“I think she felt sorry for me, spending all my spare time with her instead of kids my own age. I started collecting baseball cards after that. I took all of his good ones and mounted them the way serious collectors do with acid free stuff, and started researching them, going to shows, that kind of thing.”

“Is it worth much?” She couldn’t help but ask.

“It is now. It was then, too. Mr. Harrison had been collecting since he was a kid, around 1910 or so. Since I’ve been working the collection though, I have four of the ten most valuable baseball cards in the world.”

“Wow. Like Nolan Ryan’s rookie card?”

He chuckled, that amazing sound again turning Renae to pudding. “Yeah, I’ve got a couple of those, but they’re only worth a couple of thousand. I’m talking seriously valuable cards, rare duplicates of some that have sold at Sotheby’s for upwards of several million dollars.”

Speechless, Renae could only stare at him. She watched as he nonchalantly ate the artichoke leaves, scraping the tender undersides against his teeth to remove the flesh, watching her reaction.

“So you’re rich off baseball cards?” She couldn’t not ask. It just came out. Quickly, she glanced at her lap in embarrassment, mentally haranguing herself. “Not that it’s any of my business,” she continued when she saw his eyes crinkle in amusement.

“No, that’s a legitimate question. No, I’m not rich, I just happen to have several extremely valuable baseball cards that I guard with my life. My bank account on the other hand… not too impressive.” His accompanying smile was a warm flash of even, white teeth. “It’s hard to find the right buyer for that kind of thing, but I know a guy who sells them for me on occasion.”

Feeling a little relieved, Renae ate a few artichoke leaves while she pondered what to ask next. Before she could come up with a question though, their dinner arrived.

Jason had taken her advice and ordered the goat cheese fig pizza. Renae chose the goat cheese and artichoke stuffed chicken breast. Estelle’s specialized in goat cheese especially after Connor, owner and chef, and Jessie, artisan cheese maker, had sealed their professional relationship with marriage vows. It was a winning combination.

They continued talking and laughing with each other over an amazing meal. Renae found out that she and Jason had been classmates in elementary school before his parents divorced and his mom moved him to Houston where he stayed, only returning for occasional visits with his dad. She vowed to go home and search through her school pictures to see if she could find a little dark haired boy with captivating blue eyes and several untamable cow licks.

She told Jason about growing up on a ranch, helping work the cows, bottle feeding the babies whose mother’s had died or rejected them, feeding chickens, and gathering eggs. She confessed to being an avid deer, duck, and dove hunter in her youth, winning the high school clay pigeon shooting state championship when she was seventeen. By the time she was eighteen, she was in love and above all that high school nonsense. She kept her mouth shut about Cody’s controlling tendencies and his determination to sever all ties with her friends after their marriage. She was having too great a time to cloud it with depressing memories.

Before they realized it, the dishes were cleared from the table, and the restaurant was nearly vacant. Jessie came by the table, and Jason finally said, “I guess we’re ready for the check. Thanks for a lovely dinner. It was all fabulous.”

Jessie made a magnanimous hand gesture. “Don’t worry about it guys. I haven’t seen Renae smile this much in years. It’s on me. Go back to someone’s place and have fun.” She shooed them out the door with a salacious wink, unwilling to hear their protests.

Renae could feel her cheeks flame at Jessie’s words and couldn’t look at Jason and the knowing smirk she knew would be on his beautiful lips. This was supposed to be just dinner, no expectations, and Jessie had just laid the expectations on the table. Now she’d have to be the one to dash them, even though she didn’t want the night to end with dinner. Suddenly furious with Jessie for speaking her own thoughts, she stalked out the front door of the restaurant, not letting Jason touch her.

“Hey. Renae!” Jason’s voice behind her in the parking lot brought her to a halt. It wasn’t him. He’d been perfect.

“I’m sorry.” Turning to him, she saw the determined set of his mouth. “She shouldn’t have said that. I’m not mad at you.”

“I know. I still don’t expect anything.” He held his hands out in supplication. “I’ll just take you home and say goodnight. Okay?”

She nodded, silently chastising herself, hating the idea of saying goodnight.

They repeated the routine getting onto the motorcycle, but instead of Jason having to pull her hands around him, Renae reached around his waist, clasping her hands together low near his groin.

She had to remind herself that tonight was not going to go there. She wasn’t going to sleep with him again. Not until he knew about the baby. She’d need to invite him in and tell him. Renae acknowledged the warring emotion inside at the thought. She would get to prolong the night, but how would he react to the news?

The rumbling engine, his scent, the feel of him and the bike between her legs all conspired against her senses, overwhelming them nearly to the point of madness by the time they got back to her house. She knew her cheeks were flushed. She could feel the heat. Everywhere.

Jason got off the motorcycle and deliberately turned to her before she had a chance to straighten her dress. He held out his hand to help her.

“Please. Don’t make me keep sneaking peeks in the mirror.” His eyes cut sideways, and Renae realized he’d been watching her from the little rear-view mirror hanging off the side of the bike. His voice lowered, “I like polka dots.”

Heat crept up her cheeks at his tone of voice. “Fine.” She took his hand, and much more gracefully extricated herself from the motorcycle. When she was off, she was still holding his hand, so she looked up into his piercing eyes. “Do you want to come inside? I can make some coffee…”

“I would love to. Coffee sounds great.” The rumble of his voice washed over her body like a shockwave. She turned on unsteady legs to walk to her door.

In her kitchen, she loaded the coffee maker while Jason watched her from the bar area, his chin on his hands. While it was brewing, she turned to lean against the counter, crossing her arms in front of her.